In-fcking-volved
by eros-et-philia
Summary: This was meant to be a kind of alternative to episode 3- Molly is on rest leave with Captain James instead of Smurf- but with a few changes. For those tempted to follow this story, this is a one shot only...so that's all she wrote.


She woke up with a start, feeling at once the familiar pressure of a hangover weighing her down. Her eyelids felt heavy and her mouth felt dry and too small for her swollen tongue. How drunk had she been last night. Her body felt strangely loose and languid and as she raised her hand to massage the dull ache behind her eyes and stretch her body out of the foetal position, she froze…she wasn't alone. Hazy memories seemed to tumble over each other into her bleary mind and she stifled a gasp as she turned to look at the man sleeping…or rather spooning, behind her. Captain James. She'd only gone and slept with Captain James.

Her abrupt movement caused him to stir in his sleep and the well-muscled arm that he had draped over her waist tightened, drawing her closer against his body…his very naked body. She squeezed her eyes shut at the torrid memories of what had happened in this bed last night, memories which her brain was now replaying in Technicolor._ Shit!_ Molly cursed herself silently. _How the actual fuck did I let this happen?_

Deep down, she knew this was a silly question. Last night had been building up between them for months now. If anything, she should have been asking herself how it had taken so long to happen. From the moment she had found out that they would be on rest leave at the same time, knowing that she and Captain James would be in London for two weeks at the same time, she'd carried around the hope that this would happen. But throughout the journey back to the UK, they had played their assigned roles of Captain and Private, keeping a professional distance, and said goodbye as expected.

It had taken less than a day of being home for Molly to realize just how much things had changed. During the long drive home from Brize Norton the lush green landscape of England had been a welcome, comforting sight at first but it didn't take long before she found herself longing for the arid dryness of the Afghan desert. Newham itself seemed more dank and grey than she remembered and she wondered just how many more people could cram themselves into it. Everything back home seemed safe, something she'd spent most of her life yearning for but now made her feel stifled and bored. It wasn't just the banter with the lads back in Afghan that she missed, it was the fact that everything was at stake; out there, they were risking everything together. Being with her family should have made her feel settled, away from all that life and death bullshit, but in truth, home was starting to feel unfamiliar.

For three days she smiled through her restlessness; she didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. By the fourth day, she'd had enough and had actually agreed to out drinking with her mum and her cougar mates. The plan, according to them, was to "pull and get completely paralytic". The "paralytic" part sounded good. She was putting on a second layer of mascara when her phone rang.

"Hello Dawsey."

Her first reaction was that something had happened back in Helmand. _Oh God…Bashira_ a vision of those grey-green eyes that still haunted her flashed across her mind and her pulse quickened with anxiety. _But wait…Dawsey…he'd called her Dawsey_. The first and last time he'd done that the atmosphere between them had been almost playful…well, as playful as it could be after nearly being blown apart into mangled pieces. As she'd leaned over him, washing out a piece of micro shrapnel that had almost lodged itself in his eyes, she'd had to fight an overwhelming urge to kiss him. If she was honest, it wasn't the first time she'd had the thought, it was just the first time she'd almost acted on it. She tried to convince herself that the impulse was some sort of post traumatic symptom caused by adrenalin; nothing more than the thrill of having survived; but he had felt it too. She'd caught his gaze lingering on her mouth and if someone hadn't called her name, she would have sworn his hands were reaching for her.

"Is something wrong, Sir?"

"Why would anything be wrong, Dawse? I was just checking how you were doing…making sure you weren't being a menace."

She smiled. "Well, I could put my mum on the phone and you could ask her." She heard him chuckle. "In fact, tonight is my first night out since I've been back so I've been good as gold. You've actually just caught me putting my face on." Molly stared at her reflection, pleased with the results of the last hour of effort. Her hair fell around her face in soft, glossy waves and her strapless black dress showed of the figure she'd earned with all those hellish early morning runs. Captain James had only ever really seen her in army gear and she couldn't help but wonder how he would react if he could see her dressed up like this.

After a long silence, he finally spoke. "Who are you going out with?"

"I'm meeting up with a few girls…you know…seeing where the night takes us." She groaned inwardly at the lameness of her lie. "What about you, Sir? How are you finding being back home?"

"Uneventful," came his blunt reply. "I was actually hoping we could meet up but you have plans and my timing is obviously terrible."

She could hear the silent plea in his voice and a morbid sense of curiosity forced her to ask, "Where did you want to meet?"

"I'm staying at the Wellesley for a few days."

"Why are you staying a hotel? I thought you had a house in…"she stopped as realization hit her. "You can't exactly invite me to your house so you thought a cheap hotel would do."

"No, that's not it at all. I've been staying with my parents. She has the house. We don't live together anymore." He sounded tired. "My parents can't seem to stop interfering. I needed a break, I needed…" he let out a frustrated sigh and Molly could almost hear him massaging his temples, "I needed to see you."

—-

As the black cab headed towards Knightsbridge, Molly told had told herself that they would just talk…get everything out in the open so they could head back out to Afghan with clearer heads…no way would she stay more than an hour. As it pulled up outside the most ridiculously expensive hotel Molly had ever seen, her resolve had already started to waver. She'd valiantly tried to act more confident than she felt as the concierge had led her to the private staircase that gave access to the Churchill suite but the opulent splendour of the 5* hotel left her gaping and wide-eyed. She stood outside the door for a full minute, questioning her sanity for even showing up but before she could turn back, the heavy door swung open.

She watched his eyes widen with shock as they took her in. "You've really pushed the boat out haven't you?" Molly strolled past him into the lavish suite, leaving him gaping behind her. The dress was working better than she could have hoped. "I can only stay for an hour," she announced, trying to inject an air of finality into her voice.

"In that case, Dawes, you really should have worn a different dress." Molly could have sworn he'd borrowed the line from some cheesy film she'd seen on channel 5 but he managed to make it sound so sincere and that was how all the trouble had started.

The drinking game had been his idea. With almost schoolboy enthusiasm, he'd produced a massive bottle of chilled vodka and suggested they play Truth or Dare while getting "completely shit-faced". They had settled down on the large settee in the lounge and he had poured them a couple of shots each, to help them loosen up, naturally. The game had started off with the usual sorts of innocuous questions and dares (if you could have a superpower, what would you choose and dares to lick the floor and make obscene phone calls) but as the shots had flowed the game had become more flirtatious. They'd also given up any pretense of sticking to the rules…each question or dare was just an excuse to down another shot.

She watched as he poured the liquid into two waiting shot glasses and noted that his hand was still completely steady. "Truth or dare?" she asked.

"Truth," he replied with a playful raise of his eyebrow.

"I expect full disclosure for this one," she smiled as his eyes darkened with interest, "How old were you when you had your first proper snog?" As soon as the question passed her lips she wished she could pull it back. She downed her shot, shaking her head as the liquid burned down her throat. Why did she want to hear about him with some other girl?

"I was 14 and she was 16…"

"Ooooh a cougar!" Molly teased.

"She was actually…a pretty aggressive one at that. It was at a party my parents were hosting and she locked me in my parent's bedroom and pounced on me. It wasn't too traumatic, although I do remember her telling me not to use so much tongue." Molly let out a bark of laughter, although she did find it hard to imagine Captain James being crap at anything, let alone a clumsy kisser.

"Alright, that's enough of that," He threw his head back as he drank his shot. "Your turn…truth or dare?"

"Uh…dare, of course."

"I dare you…"he paused, pretending to be lost in thought, "to kiss anyone in the room," he waved a hand across the empty room, "anyone of your choosing."

"That's easy!" she quipped triumphantly and leaned in, placing a loud smacking kiss on his cheek.

"That doesn't count," he shook his head dismissively.

"Why not?"

"Because the rules of truth or dare clearly state that kisses are always on the mouth. It's a cast iron regulation, Dawes."

Molly took a few seconds to mull it over. The pretext seemed as good as any, and given the amount of trouble he had gone to get her into this position, it seemed like the least she could do. She moved closer to him on the sofa till her knees were pressed against his denim clad thigh. Just as she leaned towards him, he raised his hand and moved her hair back over her shoulder. For a moment, she thought he was going to pull her closer but he waited, his brown eyes watching her intently. It should have been easy to press her mouth to his but her traitorous mind chose that moment to remind her. He's married. She hadn't wanted to spoil the evening by bringing up his wife but it was too late to cover up her hesitation and as she'd come to know over the last few months, he noticed everything.

Before she even made a move, he turned to pick up the bottle of vodka, pouring himself another shot. "But, as usual Dawes, you have a way of bending the rules and getting around me." He smiled and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Your turn."

Molly shook her head decisively, "Nah…I'm passing on this round. I've officially run out of ideas and I need a drink." She picked up the large bottle and poured herself an over flowing shot.

"Fine…next dare…"

"How do you know I want a dare?"

"Because by passing on the last round, you forfeit the right to choose so the asker has to choose for you."

"Is that another one of them 'cast iron regulations'?" she asked, relieved to have the playful atmosphere restored.

"Yes, now on with the game. I dare you to exchange an article of clothing with the player sitting opposite you."

Molly booed raucously.

"It's standard drinking game fodder, Dawes. Don't hate the player…hate the game."

"Fine!" she groaned, standing up. "Gimme your shirt."

"Shirts will do nicely," he grinned wolfishly as he loosened the buttons with lightning quick fingers. It took every ounce on self-control she had not to stare open mouthed at his torso. Molly turned and headed towards the bathroom earning her an equally raucous "Boo!" from Captain James. "You're not quite getting the spirit of this dare, Dawes."

"Well, no-one said I couldn't leave the room did they?" she called over her shoulder and shut the bathroom door behind her. As soon as she was out of sight, she held up his shirt to her face, inhaling deeply. Bloody hell she thought despondently, this aftershave should be illegal. All evening long the smell of his aftershave had made it impossible to think clearly. Why had she hesitated? If she hadn't been such a donut, they could be snogging each other stupid right now. She stared down at the shirt, and her eye caught the inside label: Richard James, Saville Row. Saville bloody Row. Now she knew why she'd hesitated.

It wasn't really the fact that he was married because as he'd gone to great pains to clarify, he was separated. He and his wife were no longer together. She trusted him enough to know he wouldn't lie to her about something so important. It was the fact that he wore clothes by people she'd never even heard of and he could afford hotel suites like this. She looked at the free standing bath with its gold fixtures and the marble floors it stood on. Nothing about this whole situation seemed real. Walking up to the hotel room through the glass and marble décor, she'd shrunk a little inside. In Afghan, Captain James had seemed reachable, realistic even. But seeing him now, in what was most likely his natural environment made Molly's heart ache. What the hell was someone like him doing with the likes of her?

But he's been lovely to her all night…more than lovely actually, and it didn't seem fair to hide away from him the way she was doing right now. It was clear to anyone with half a functioning brain cell that they wanted each other and even though nothing had actually happened between them, they were in a hotel, alone. Any imaginary lines had already been crossed and if the last year of her life had taught her anything, there was nothing wrong with fighting for what you want.

Fuck it. With that, she stripped off all her clothes, leaving them in a pile in the middle of the floor, and walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but her lacy black knickers and his Saville Row shirt.

"Jesus Dawes!"

She watched his eyes widen with shock then darken with desire. Relishing the feel of plush carpet under her feel, Molly walked slowly towards him, adding extra sway to her hips. She felt a burst of feminine pride at the feral glint in his eye as he took her in. She was enjoying this. She ran her hands luxuriously over herself, moulding the crisp fabric of the shirt to her body. "Nice shirt," she smiled, raising a cheeky eyebrow, "feels expensive."

"Right now, it's worth every penny." His voice had deepened, and even from across the room Molly could see his breath was now shallow. Every sense she had went into overdrive. She sauntered up him as he sat as though glued to the couch, and without skipping a beat, she raised her leg, giving him a flash of her knickers and straddled him, perching herself in his lap.

He made no move to touch her but she could practically see the battle going on in this head. His eyes looked up at her imploringly. He had grown so used to making life and death decisions every day, and right now, he was faced with another one. Molly decided she would make it easier for him and make the decision for them. She leaned towards him, pressing herself flush against the hard plane of his chest and the delicious friction from the fabric of his shirt caused her nipples to tighten. She was so close, close enough to feel his hot breath against her cheek; close enough to kiss him, but she didn't. Instead she gave an upward lick over his parted lips and waited for his reaction.

He hadn't needed further invitation. His fingers had buried themselves into her hair, gently pulling her all the way in, and his mouth latched onto hers, coaxing her lips apart and drawing her tongue into his mouth. He groaned, the sound rumbling low in his chest and Molly let out a sigh of relief. How long had they waited for this? Months out in the desert working so hard to stay professional and yet making excuses to be in each other's company. All those nights of knowing he was sleeping only meters away and yet it may as well have been miles. His hands left her hair, moving searchingly over her body as though memorizing every dip, every curve. She'd dreamt about his hands and when they closed over her breasts, his thumbs finding her nipples, she moaned, low in her throat and rocked her hips against him, lost in pleasure.

"Wait…" his teasing hands stilled and he pulled his mouth away from her, "Are you sure…we don't' have to rush this."

Much as Molly admired his attempt at gallantry she could hear the strained need in his voice as he spoke. Spurred on by the heady mix of vodka and arousal, she took his hand, pulling it between her thighs and under the elastic band of her knickers and rubbed his fingers back and forth through her wet folds. "Too late," she whispered against his ear as she pushed one of his fingers inside her. He let out an agonized groan.

"Now that's just asking for trouble, Dawes," he quipped, a predatory gleam in his eyes. In a sudden show of strength he scooped her up out of his lap, laying her down onto the sofa. Kneeling between her legs, he held her gaze as he unfastened the button of the shirt, exposing her to his hot gaze. Molly had never seen him so intense and prospect of what he was about to do to her made her shiver with anticipation. Without warning, he lowered his head, latching onto on turgid nipple and sucking hard, forcing her to cry out from the shock. Her entire body tensed with pleasure as he worked his way from one breast to another, drawing needy sounds from her.

He moved further down her body, planting compelling kisses over her stomach. His mouth and hands took turns caressing the soft skin on her thighs; skin she had never realized was so sensitive until now. As his fingers touched her through the thin fabric of her knickers, locating the small firm but hidden there, she allowed her thighs to fall apart, giving in to the throbbing pleasure pulsing through her.

When his mouth finally closed over her, Molly's entire world narrowed to the blissful ache building in her as his skilful tongue lapped at her. Molly couldn't open her legs wide enough, couldn't control the frenzied moans his mouth was demanding from her. When he finally entered her, she'd buried her face in his neck, muffling her cry.

"Let me hear you, Molly," he breathed against her mouth. The way he said her name made her so emotional for a moment she thought she'd cry…but she didn't. Instead she watched him watch her, registering every look on his handsome face as he moved inside her. There it was; that beautiful acceptance that had marked their relationship from the very beginning. With, him she always had permission to be herself and so she let go. She didn't think about the moans and cried escaping her or what her face looked like twisted in ecstasy. He was drinking them all in like well wrapped gifts.

Her body had soon taken over and as mindlessly gripped at his hair and back. Her hips lifted off the sofa as she moved with him, arching and rocking with and against him, heightening their pleasure. Their bodies were a perfect fit of mingled breaths punctuated by urgent kisses. His hands had gripped her backside with almost painful force as he ground against her, fusing them even closer together and coaxing a shuddering orgasm out of her.

But that was last night, a night that had been fuelled by god knows how many shots of vodka and months of pent up sexual frustration. This was the dreaded morning after. Looking at him now as he slept beside her, he looked so young she couldn't believe he was old enough to be in charge of anything, let alone an active platoon. The nickname "Under Fives" had never seemed more apt. It took every ounce of restraint not to pepper his gorgeous face with kisses, but she wasn't ready to deal with him, or what had happened between them, in the cold light of day.

Now if she could just get to the bathroom without waking him up. She kept her movements slow and deliberate, freeing herself from the confines of his arm but her bladder was screaming at her to hurry up so she decided that one quick move was probably best. Thankfully he stayed asleep but her sudden absence forced him onto his stomach and she gasped as she caught sight of his back. Her nails had been practically non-existent since she'd joined the army, yet somehow she'd managed to leave a trail of very long…and very telling…scratch marks across his arms and upper back. She leaned in to take a closer look but stirred again and she tip toed soundlessly out of the bedroom.

Once locked away in the relative safety of the bathroom, Molly stared into the large oval mirror, barely recognising herself. Her mind wandered back to the scratches on the sleeping Captain's body. She wasn't sure if it was the life threatening situations they had faced together every day or if it was simply the endless months of wanting each other, but last night they clearly hadn't been able to hold anything back. The markings on her own body were further proof of that. She counted one…two…three angry looking love bites on her neck and shoulders and the fragile skin on her hips boasted large hand prints. Even her mouth still looked red and swollen from the bruising kisses they had shared all night.

A hot red blush spread over her as she remembered how easily she'd thrown off all inhibition. One of the walls of the large bedroom was covered top to bottom with mirrors that ran the entire length of the bed. She hadn't paid much attention at first, that was the sort of thing you heard about in seedy American motels, but they hadn't half come in handy last night. She couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips at that particular memory.

It was the second time they made love and they'd eventually made it to the bedroom, falling onto the king sized bed with him buried as deep inside her as he could get. Without warning, he'd pulled out, leaving her gasping after him. Standing up beside the bed, he'd grabbed her hips and flipped her over and up till she was on all fours. Surprised and impressed by his sudden aggressiveness, she'd turned to give him a look of approval over her shoulder and it was then that she caught sight of them in the mirrored wall.

The look of undiluted lust and concentration of his face sent an answering gush of wetness between her thighs and she almost growled at him to hurry up and put it in. His tour-roughened hands caressed her bottom and thighs, leaving goose bumps in their wake and she felt the mattress dip under his weight as he knelt in the space between her calves. Her toes curled with anticipation.

The first thrust caused her back to arch, forcing her head down and her eyes away from the mirror. Her shocked moan of pleasure seemed to vibrate off the walls, charging the atmosphere in the bedroom with a rawness far removed from the romantic sweetness of their first time. Now he was fucking her and she couldn't resist the pull of watching him. This time when she raised her eyes towards their reflection their eyes locked and a shiver of pure delight coursed through her. She arched her back, rocking her hips back against his and relished the wet sucking sound of his hardness pushing into her. She felt a swell of satisfaction at how decadent she looked in this position, the way her hands gripped the duvet, the curve of her back and the sway of her tussled hair as he hit every relevant spot inside her. Molly had never come so hard in her life.

I need a shower she thought balefully. Reliving it was not helping. Where could any of this really go? Yes…they had fun together and yes…the sex was in-fucking-credible but what did they really have in common. A quick shower then straight out the door…that was the best way to play this. Thank god most of her clothes were still in a heap on the bathroom floor. Leaving her knickers behind wouldn't be a problem…might even give him a cheap thrill if he found them.

As Molly lathered herself under the waterfall shower the zesty fragrance of the shower gel was already making her feel more alert. Suddenly, the bathroom door opened and in he walked…unashamedly naked. Her first instinct was to turn away and hide her body from him, but what was the point after last night. Without waiting for an invitation, he opened the glass door to the wet room and walked in.

"Morning Molly." He planted a sleepy peck on the top of her head.

She opened her mouth to tell him she was leaving…that last night was great but it was time to get back to reality. But as he wrapped his arms around her slick body pulling her to him, all she could manage was a frustrated moan. As he kissed the back of her neck the stimulating caress of his morning stubble caused her breath to catch in her throat. Fuck it! She was only human and under the circumstances there really wasn't much else she could do. She turned, winding her soapy arms around his neck and pulled him down for a sumptuous kiss.

"Good morning to you too…Boss-man."

#ogff#our girl#captain dawsey#captain James#molly dawes

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